


cut through the gloom

by thebaesicme



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, blowjob, first piece of smut by me, fit it anywhere in canon you want for divergence, i forgot, of course, or just read it like that, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaesicme/pseuds/thebaesicme
Summary: they've been away and here we see Mycroft giving Sherlock a blowjob in their father's study. plain and simple.





	cut through the gloom

“You've been busy,” Sherlock announces as he hears the door to the study open,  could only be his brother.

Mycroft has already changed out of his usual suits into a t-shirt and sweatpants. Freeballing, he idly notices. Mycroft should wear comfort wear more often. If only his schedule allowed it. Sherlock frowns at the blackness lining his brother's lower eyelashes and the worry lines.

“See anything that interests you? brother dear,” Mycroft says gesturing at his files that he was going through. Sherlock wants to kiss the little wrinkles that form when Mycroft talks, over his brow.

Sherlock would ask why his brother overworks himself so, but doesn't because either he won't get a reply, or the answer will end up hinting at the fact that Sherlock refuses to take some governmental burden off Mycroft. Sherlock did feel guilty about that once, but they've moved past it. Barely seems excusable to waste time talking about their professions.

So, he doesn't say anything. They've been away for three months, longest they've gone since this first started. Sherlock puts a hand lightly on Mycroft's shoulder inviting him closer, not gripping him like he very well should be. Mycroft wraps his arm around Sherlock's hips, closing the distance between theirs lips. Just two lingering kisses that come natural to them before one of Mycroft's hands is on his sides, caressing Sherlock's ribs. Sherlock is the first to demand more, edging at Mycroft's lips. Mycroft accepts it and doesn't take long before Sherlock is lost in it.

When their lips break apart, there's a breathless moment, Sherlock's focus on his hand in a fist around Mycroft's shirt. Mycroft's hands having found their way to Sherlock's curls. Their mouths are barely brushing, Sherlock knows Mycroft is asking for permission again.

“Anything you want,” Sherlock breathes out. Sherlock never usually makes enormous announcements towards Mycroft. He doesn't take it back.

There's a light glint in Mycroft's eyes and the git actually  _ winks _ . And then he drops to his knees, making Sherlock catch a breath in his throat.

“Oh god,” Sherlock says, he's already hard, and has been since his hips first pushed at Mycroft's. Mycroft makes fast work of Sherlock's belt and pulls his trousers down just far enough. He'd worry about them being their father's study or anyone coming in through the door, but Mycroft is looking up at him from under his thick eyelashes and Sherlock doesn't recall being farther from caring about anything in his life. The evening they'd spent should've been illegal for keeping them from this longer than necessary.

it's been so long. So many months of longing and seeing Mycroft behind his eyelids as he sweated into his own sheets.

His hands scramble behind him for something to hold onto because Mycroft is tugging him out of his pants and Sherlock feels like he'll fall right through the ground or get blown out into space if he doesn't get a grip. One of his hands closes on Mycroft's laptop on the desk and he feels hysterical laughter bubbling up, then Mycroft licks his lips and takes him all the way in, one smooth, wet, motion.

The shock of it pulses through Sherlock's body and he arches forward. Mycroft's nose is brushing against his abdomen and it takes everything in Sherlock to keep the noises in.

He looks down and realises his hand is on the back of Mycroft's neck. Mycroft picks up a slow rhythm of long pulls and Sherlock has to close his eyes again. The sight of Mycroft's lips around him added to the way it feels is enough for him to feel his knees go weak and about to give out. He feels Mycroft's hands grip the back of his legs and feels grateful for it. Mycroft pulls all the way off before giving a small lick and sucking hard. Sherlock can't help letting out a few choked noises and Christ, Mycroft approves because Sherlock feels him hum around himself.

Sherlock forces his eyes open to get a visual memory, lest he convince himself of  this being a dream. And let's his mouth fall in a silent moan, Mycroft's eyes are closed now. Sherlock can't help sliding his hand up into Mycroft's hair. Mycroft's eyes flick up to meet his, and it's not worry he sees there anymore, that has him white-knuckles holding onto the desk for dear life.

Mycroft removes one hand slowly from holding Sherlock and slides it between his legs, and Sherlock wants to see so badly. He settles for seeing the way Mycroft's arm muscles work on pleasuring himself, Sherlock can't make himself move. He'd say something if his mind weren't torn into pieces over Mycroft's mouth around him and the way he is touching himself. He cards his fingers through Mycroft's hair helplessly.

Mycroft pulls back again to rest his forehead on Sherlock's hip, his breaths coming out frantic. His hand moving faster in his pants and fingers digging into the back of Sherlock's thigh, “I'm so close,” he says roughly before taking Sherlock all the way back.

Sherlock is lost in sensation and the words only half register, he was cataloguing every flutter on his brother's face. He barely has time to warn Mycroft, pull at his hair when he feels himself touch the back of Mycroft's throat. Mycroft swallows around him as he comes.

Mycroft pulls off just a moment too soon and a little of Sherlock's spill is on his mouth. Sherlock thumbs against the mess, has to touch him. Mycroft sucks his thumb into his mouth, hard, and looks up unblinking at Sherlock.

Sherlock is weak, “Myc.” he says. He wants to be close to him as he comes, Mycroft bites down hard on his digit before his mouth goes slack and he lets out a groan, shuddering through his release.

His grip on Sherlock loosens and Sherlock's knees finally give out. He drops heavily to the floor, nearly in Mycroft's lap. They're knocked off balance, Mycroft lightly holding him as he tries to lay down as gently as possible. Sherlock is nearly laying all over Mycroft, breathing hard and still riding the last of it out.

They're silent for a few moments, Sherlock's face buried in the nook Mycroft's neck provides, with one of Mycroft's arms around his waist. Mycroft lets out a short laugh and Sherlock joins him with a chuckle. Sherlock lifts his head up to say something, he's gone on too long without it, Mycroft undoing him beyond the point of forming coherent words. But the look on Mycroft's face once again knocks the breath out of him, isn't he being hopeless today. Mycroft looks spent, dirty, and beautiful. Entirely dazed with pleased eyes admiring Sherlock.  _ I did that,  _ being the only thought Sherlock seems capable of.

Sherlock grabs Mycroft's face in his hands and kisses him. It's short, Mycroft is smiling into it and Sherlock can't help but smile at his older brother.

“I love you,” Sherlock tells him, finally managing words. It's the one thing that came most naturally to the brothers. Well, after their intelligence.

Mycroft brings his head up for a peck, barely touching Sherlock's nose. “I've missed you, dear” 

**Author's Note:**

> this was all me and totally what I shouldn't have been doing 36 hours before finals but I did


End file.
